


For Those We Love

by perilousgard



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perilousgard/pseuds/perilousgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets for the many awesome moms of FMA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gracia Hughes

**Author's Note:**

> First up we have Gracia Hughes, although Roy actually kind of stole the spotlight in this?

“Uncle Roy, it’s hoooot.”

“I know, kid, I know. We’re almost home, okay?” Roy adjusted his grip on Elysia’s legs, shifting her weight on his shoulders. At almost four and a half, she was getting too big to be carried this way, but somehow he was never able to say no when she asked.

She hummed, pulling slightly on his hair, and then propped her chin on top of his head. “It hasn’t been this hot in my whole life.”

Roy laughed, and tickled her under her knees. “Why don’t we get a drink, then?” He pointed to a stand that they were coming up to, which was selling ice cold lemonade, and freshly cut flowers. Taking Elysia’s delighted squeal as an affirmative answer, he walked up to the dark-skinned woman who was manning the booth and fanning herself lightly with a Xingese-style paper fan.

“What can I get for you?” she asked with a smile, which brightened when she looked up at Elysia.

“I guess we’ll take two lemonades,” Roy replied, starting to lift the little girl off his shoulders. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to put you down. I don’t want you to spill that all over my head.”

Elysia tried to peer over the edge of the booth, like she hadn’t even heard him. “Look, the purple flowers!”

“Yes – irises, I think,” he replied. As many times as he had gotten flowers for his fake dates, there weren’t many he couldn’t name.

“Mommy likes those,” said Elysia, tilting her head to look up at him. “She gotted lots for her birthday from my auntie.”

Roy took the two cups of icy lemonade from the saleswoman. “I’ll take a dozen of those irises as well.”

“I’m sure your wife will love them, sir,” said the woman, gathering up a bouquet for him.

“My best friend’s wife,” Roy felt obligated to correct, though if he wanted to be completely accurate, he should have used the term _widow._ The word had never felt right on his tongue. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

Roy drained his cup quickly, then took Elysia’s hand so they could continue on home. She kept quiet the rest of the way, mostly preoccupied by the lemonade. The smell of the flowers tickled his nose, and Elysia laughed whenever he sneezed.

The Hughes’ door was already open when he reached it. Elysia darted inside as soon as he turned the knob, calling out for her mother. Gracia appeared from the back of the apartment and scooped her daughter into her arms.

“Mommy, we did so much today! Auntie Riza brought her doggy and we played fetch!”

“That sounds fun, sweetheart.” Gracia beamed and set the little girl back down; she really was getting too heavy to hold. When she straightened back up, her eyes went to the bouquet. “Do you have a date tonight, Roy?”

“Not tonight,” he said. “These are from Elysia. They’re for you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Gracia’s cheeks flushed and she looked happier than Roy had seen her in a long time. “Well, thank you, baby. That was very sweet of you.”

“They’re purple like Daddy’s shirt!”

“Mm, that’s right.” Gracia’s eyes flicked to the photo that sat on the mantelpiece, which had been taken around three years ago and featured Maes in that very shirt. “I suppose it’s only fitting to put the flowers over there with your Daddy.”

Roy watched her fill a vase with water and set the flowers in it, arranging them neatly on top of the fireplace beside the picture. He was pleased to notice that her eyes were no longer haunted by sorrow as she gazed at her husband, but bright with the happy memories he had left her.

For the first time, the guilt Roy still carried with him seemed just a little less heavy.


	2. Xin Mei Mustang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Roy's first birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAS ANYONE EVER WRITTEN ABOUT ROY'S PARENTS?? IF SO CAN YOU PLEASE LET ME KNOW?? THX

Save for the soft ticking of a clock from somewhere in the other room, and the slight tinkling of the wind chimes on the porch, the little wooden house was silent. Even the baby wasn’t making a sound – unusual, for him. Xin Mei wanted to treasure the silence, but the lack of sound served only to make her thoughts louder, and that was precisely what she didn’t want.

Now she couldn’t stop pacing, back and forth across the matted floor, her simple summer robe trailing behind her. It was too big for her – one of her older sister’s, she couldn’t remember which – but it was breathable, and that was all that mattered during a Xing summer. Only just now, she felt like the fabric was suffocating her, and she pulled frequently at her collar as she paced, the robe falling open nearly to her breast.

After what seemed like hours, a piercing cry mercifully shattered the silence, and a moment later, one of Xin Mei’s older sisters appeared with a small bundle clutched to one shoulder. “He woke up,” she said flatly, and Xin Mei reached out automatically to take the baby from her. “That must be the longest he’s ever slept.”

“He’s just a baby,” Xin Mei defended, her son a comforting weight against her body. “He’ll sleep more when he gets older.”

Her sister shrugged. “At least if you had married a Xingese man, he would be here to help you right now.”

Xin Mei was more than tired of this argument. “A Xingese man would not be the man I loved. If you would take the time to get to know him, you would see that he is a good man.”

“How can I do that, if he is never here?”

Xin Mei said nothing, opening her robe further so that Roy could get to her breast.

“He should be off breast milk by now. Isn’t he a year old?”

“Yes,” she replied, because today was Roy’s birthday. One year old – and his father had not seen him in six months.

“He’ll grow up weak if you keep doing that.”

Xin Mei ignored her again. “Has the post come today?”

“No, not yet. Are you expecting something?”

“He said he would send something for Roy’s birthday.”

Her sister tutted. “You know how unreliable soldiers are. When is the last time you heard from him? You could probably count on one hand the number of letters he’s sent since that baby was born.”

Xin Mei bristled with annoyance. “He’s busy; he’s _fighting._ I don’t know why you can’t see that he is an honorable man.”

“Because he is the man who got my sister pregnant before he even asked for her hand, and then ran off not two months after the wedding!”

Holding Roy close to her, reminding herself that shouting would only make him cry, Xin Mei hurried past her sister and went to check for the mail. Her family could find nothing better to do than ridicule her for the life she had chosen, and most of the time she was able to brush aside their tongue-wagging, but today she didn’t want to hear it. As much as her sister’s words hurt, they were very true: it had been a very long time since her baby’s father had sent her a letter, or anything indicating that he was even still alive. The only thing that assured her was that another man in an Amestrian military uniform had not showed up at her door to deliver bad news.

To her delight, the mail sat there on the porch waiting for her. Shifting Roy’s weight to her hip, she knelt down and shuffled through the letters. Roy babbled, his tiny hands curling into the soft, worn cotton of her robe, and she cooed to him in response. “Do you think your father remembered your birthday, huh?”

He fussed a little in response, as if to say, _I doubt it._

She nearly cried in relief and joy when she recognized her husband’s neat handwriting and a return address she was familiar with. Sitting down on the roughly hewn wood of the porch, she tore the parchment out of the envelope and began to read, her face falling slightly when she noticed how short it was.

_Dearest Xin Mei,_

_I hope this letter gets to you by Roy’s birthday. You thought I’d miss it, didn’t you? I’m so sorry I haven’t had time to write. Things can get hectic on the front, and the days often bleed together, and – well, I think I’ll spare you from talk of war. Give my big man a kiss from me, all right? The next time I come home, you might be speaking to a Captain._

_Love,_

_-M_

There was nothing else. He didn’t ask how she was doing, or anything about their baby, or give any indication of when he’d be home again—

Xin Mei shook her head, and hid her sudden tears in Roy’s soft, dark hair. Here he was, warm and soft, her living reminder that her husband loved her. (Of course, Roy had been cursed with Xingese looks, and resembled his father very little – but Xin Mei supposed that in the place where they lived, that was a blessing.) He was still fighting, and would continue to work hard, and when the job was done then he would be home, and they could be a real family. He’d take her out of this house, maybe they’d go to Amestris, and she could learn how to be a real Western wife, and her family would be jealous of her wealth and good fortune.

She clasped the letter tightly to her chest. Roy, perhaps sensing her lingering distress, began to cry.


End file.
